| Your crazy grandpa spills the wine
|
| Around the sycamore tree
|
| I hear his bad song
|
| Just inside where your nephews might be
|
| «Strike a pose.», says Mary
|
| And «Purse your lips.», say Blaine
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| Sugarcane plum fairy
|
| The August moon shine
|
| Paints the world in a wonderland of light
|
| And though the wines fine
|
| Don’t I feel just a very slight, slight
|
| From your March Hare Larry and your dormouse James
|
| Sugarcane plum fairy
|
| Long ago, the seashells line the castle wall
|
| Tide was low as night fell on our Paris song…
|
| The lonely fireflies dot the lawn
|
| Like a Tinkerbell flight
|
| I watch your tired eyes
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| Taking care not to meet with mine right
|
| Keeps an old flame weary and
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| Your small talk strained
|
| Sugarcane plum fairy
|
| Long ago, the seashells line the castle wall
|
| Tide was low as night fell on our Paris song…
|
| I’ll have a heart love and
|
| Drag my tail down the whippoorwill trail
|
| It’s time to part love and
|
| Make a start towards the Union Mail Rail
|
| Guess I best not tarry, it’s a midnight train
|
| Sugarcane plum fairy
|
| Guess I best not tarry, it’s a midnight train
|
| Sugarcane plum fairy |